Life After Life
by Amber-and-Ash
Summary: Harry is shown a way to defeat Voldemort, but is it worth the price? Snape mentors Harry fic, no HBP.
1. A Strange proposal

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment.

AU. The story starts at the beginning of Harry's seventh year, but ignores the events of HBP. No parings, Snape mentors Harry. OC's, but they will not be the focus of the story.

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He might be an adult in the Wizarding world, but thankfully the Dursley's didn't know that. He had a home there until the second he turned eighteen, at which time his protection would end. Just one more year - it would have to be enough.

Harry Potter unpacked the next box, holding each book in his hands for a moment before shelving it carefully.

_Whatever it takes to defeat Voldemort,_ he swore to himself once again, _knowledge is power_.

He pulled out another and abruptly dropped it. This was not a book he had bought. Visions of portkeys and diaries flashed through his mind as he looked down at the title:

**The wizard-reborn: All you need to know about being a vampire.**

It didn't matter if it was a portkey - the wards would prevent it from activating, and besides, he had already handled it. He cast as many detection spells on it as he could think of, and examined it critically. It was a beautiful thing, written in hand-etched leather. He knew he should report it to the Headmaster, but...

Yes, 'but' indeed. The Headmaster's decisions regarding his safety had always been suspect, and it was getting harder to pretend. His frustrated rebellion twinned with his normal curiosity tipped the balance, and he turned to the first page. _Knowledge is power; power is knowledge._

**Forget everything you've learnt about vampires from the Wizarding world. Some of it is fanciful fiction, most of it applies only to the lesser 'upir', and some of it is deliberate misdirection. Whether this book is any more truthful is something you will have to find out for yourself.**

Vampires? Not quite what he had been expecting. He flipped through the book quickly, and then turned to the first of two bookmarks.

While the soul will usually release once the feeding reaches a certain point, the following section will teach you how to force this release. Practice this extensively on animals before attempting it on a sentient being - it is a common mistake to reverse the desired effects, absorbing the soul and releasing the blood-magic. This will destroy all traces of the sentient's existence, and triggers another level of blood-curse (see chapter 4). In other words, it's a Very Bad Idea.

A way, a real way, to destroy Voldemort! But of no use to them. Not even the upir supported Dumbledore, and these 'other' vampires were clearly not intending to make themselves known to the general wizarding world. He turned to the second:

**The Strigoi Vii: Signs that a being has the capacity to rise again.**

**The careless feeder will soon discover that the vast majority of their victims stay dead after death even if they fail to release the soul. Very few will wake and join our ranks as Strigoi Mort. When looking to birth another into our world, look for as many of these signs as possible:  
- birth caul.  
- birthmarks on lower back, ribcage or sole of the foot in the following shapes: leaf, moth, or circle.  
- curse scars on face, neck, or hands.  
- communication with animals.  
- affinity for dark arts.**

The implication was clear. Harry wasn't sure what the first meant, and he hoped the last wasn't true, but the rest... fit him very well. He had been given a map - but where was the path? Giving himself some time to think about the idea, he hid the book behind some of the others as he continued unpacking. Ironic, actually -the first time he could store his magical stuff where he could see it, and here he was hiding something already. He ran his hand over the desk and around the room. Seventeen. Amazing what difference a day could make. But he wasn't stupid - if his relatives walked in, they would see the same depressing place that had been here before.

He wasn't entirely sure why he was going to so much effort for a place he would only be spending a handful more weeks in, but he felt he needed to wipe the slate clean. Besides, he could take most of it with him when he left. He had shrunk everything that was previously in the room, cleaned and redecorated from floor to ceiling, and was in the midst of refilling it from his mail-order purchases.

To distract himself, Harry pulled out his half completed thank-you letter to Ron and Hermione, who were spending the holidays together again this year.

_It's strange being able to perform magic all the time, and no, Hermione, I am not hexing the Dursley's, you don't have to worry._

Harry debated for one long moment whether to ask advice in a round about way about the vampire situation. But one thing that had become more and more clear over the previous months was that this was not Ron and Hermione's task. Oh sure, they would fight and possibly even die in the upcoming war, but the burden of ending it lay on him alone. In the end, he kept his letter as light and meaningless as the ones they'd been sending him.

Over the next few days he read the book from cover to cover. He cast more charms on it as he thought of them. One showed the book to be in excess of sixty years old. A good sign - it meant no one was inventing these details tailor made to reel him in. Another showed only one previous owner. A bad sign - someone was targeting him very directly.

He considered his options carefully. If this was real, someone was placing a good deal of trust in him. If it was false, it was an awfully elaborate scam for very little return.

He had spent the past fourteen months searching for a solution to the problem of Voldemort's immortality. Dumbledore had no doubt spent the last seventeen years on the same quest. And although everyone was keeping true to the trend of not telling him anything, he knew - if they really thought he could defeat Voldemort, they would be training him in how to do so.

He decided at least this much - he would contact his mysterious benefactor. He was being guarded carefully, but he could work within that if he had to. His only starting point was the book store that had sent him that box - but if they wanted to be contacted, that would surely be enough. He sent a message to his keepers, expressing his desire to visit the store - they didn't have to know he had already exhausted their inventory – and resigned himself to uncertainty.

XXXXXXX

He wondered around the store, feeling more and more stupid.

"Looking for something?" whispered a voice just out of his peripheral vision. He resisted the urge to whip around, but nevertheless prepared his wand. If this turned out to be some helpful clerk, he was about to make a real idiot of himself.

"I'm looking for the author of a book I got from here a few weeks ago."

"Do you know this author's name?"

"Unfortunately not. I'm hoping to discover that information."

"Perhaps the author wishes to remain anonymous."

"I will not challenge that anonymity."

Harry stared forward, hoping that this was the right person and he had passed whatever test had been given. His breathing picked up, and he forced himself back to calmness.

"Do you have the ability to invite me through your wards?"

"If I know your magical signature. Can you find me?"

"If I know your blood."

Vampire, right. Harry mentally went through the list of dangerous things that could be done with blood. If the wound was self-inflicted, simple exposure to air would prevent any of the things Harry was really worried about.

"I'll cut my hand, and you can heal it for me. Will that be sufficient?"

"That will work."

Harry drew a quick line against his palm, and let it fall to where he knew the man was standing. A brush, and he could feel his hand tingle. The influx of magic was enough to magically identify the shadow.

"I will see you this evening, then, Harry Potter."

"I am looking forward to it."

XXXXXXX

With the ease of long practice Harry put on his 'normal' face for his keepers, but he couldn't stop himself from pacing when he was safely within the confines of his room. The wards had been modified, the privacy seal had been double checked, and there was nothing left to do but wait. 'This evening' covered a rather large portion of time.

He had almost given up hope when his own personal wards sounded. The man who slipped into his room was instantly forgettable. Neville Longbottom during herbology on a misty day. But then he met Harry's eyes and something _altered_. His appearance stayed the same, but Harry was suddenly aware of the sheer presence of the man.

"I am Lord Stefan, member of the council of British Vampires, and I am at your service," said the man with an old-fashioned bow.

Harry was impressed despite himself, but he was in no illusions as to how much danger he was in. He kept his wand to hand, and reminded himself of the possible benefits.

"How can I trust you are what you claim you are? That you can do what you claim you can?"

"Perhaps a small demonstration of the book is in order. Have you read the section on healing?"

"Yes." He'd practically devoured the book since he had made his decision to contact the vampire.

"Then you are aware of a Strigoi's regenerative powers. A demonstration perhaps?"

Harry nodded sharply, and stepped well back as Stefan slowly drew a knife. He held his hand palm up, and echoed the cut Harry had made earlier. Harry divided his attention between the wound and Stephan's eyes. A few heartbeats later, all traces of the wound had healed.

"It could have been wandless magic."

"Don't be disingenuous, Mr. Potter. I am aware of your ability to sense that."

Harry considered. He had come this far, after all. He holstered his wand.

"Please, call me Harry. Would you like a seat?"

"Thank you."

"Am I correct in understanding you are offering to... ahh..."

"To guide you through the rebirth process, yes. It doesn't much matter how it happens, so we tend to ignore that part of it."

"But you will be killing me."

"Yes. I believe there is an excellent chance that you will rise again."

"I'm sure that'll be a lot of consolation to me if I stay dead."

Stephan shrugged.

"Won't I be seventeen forever?"

"We have some conscious control over the regeneration process. With some effort, we can change skin colour, hair texture, height, and so on. While you body will default to your current state, you can be whatever age you chose to be."

"How long do I have to decide?"

Stephan checked his watch.

"Twenty five more minutes."

"_Twenty five minutes?"_

"I can only safely remove approximately half an hour's worth of memory. If you decide against this, it will all fade as some strange practical joke."

"So, this is how you convince me you're one of the good guys?"

"As with most things, it rather depends on how you define 'good guy'. I am a killer. Do this, and you will be a killer too, Harry Potter. If you are successful as a vampire, in time you will come to have killed more people than Voldemort could possibly do in his rise to power. He may be inhumane, but you will quite literally be inhuman. In two thousand years, when all this will be but a distant legend, will you then still think it worth the price?"

"Well, you think so!"

"I don't care."

"I don't understand. You want me to become a vampire so that I can kill Voldemort."

"No. I want you to become a vampire because you intrigue me, and because I can. _You_ want to become a vampire to kill Voldemort."

"I thought you were trying to convince me here!"

"Yes. But with eyes wide open, young Harry Potter. Make your own decisions, and let the prophecy take care of itself."

"You know about the prophecy?"

Stephan tilted his head to one side.

"I will give you this. It is my honest belief that the prophecy indicates that the first of you two to die will have the power to kill the other. But you do not need to stay dead."

Harry stood up and paced again, now comfortable with turning his back on Stephan. It was entirely too elaborate to be for the simple purpose of killing him. He asked questions as he thought of them, but gradually he was left with just the decision. He didn't have the means of killing Voldemort as it stood. The prophecy virtually guaranteed he would make it to the final confrontation. And it was a confrontation he was not prepared to lose.

"Two minutes," warned Stephan softly.

No point in drawing it out any longer. He came back to stand in front of Stephan.

"Yes. I want to be reborn."

"'Then live with me, and be my love,'" quoted Stefan gently.

XXXXXXX


	2. The end of summer

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment.

AU. The story starts at the beginning of Harry's seventh year, but ignores the events of HBP. No parings, Snape mentors Harry. OC's, but they will not be the focus of the story.

XXXXXXXX

Harry cast an array of disillusionment charms on himself, and allowed Stephan to lead him through the wards. With a gut-wrenching _twist_ they arrived at a rather sedate three storey muggle house. Harry stood shivering in the night air as Stephan argued with his own wards.

"Ahh, there we go. Come in, come in."

Harry stepped into the entrance hall, and suppressed a nervous grin at the twin reflections on the highly polished floor. _Another myth bites the dust_.

"I'd offer to give you a tour, but we are rather pressed for time if we want to do this and get you back before your watchers notice."

"So, when are you going to bite me?"

"Bite you?" asked Stephan in clear amusement. "I'm afraid we don't come with retractable fangs, Harry."

Harry flushed. He had read the chapter that dealt with diet, and had remembered it referred to blood as the optimum - highly concentrated, inconspicuous, and renewable – but not sole possibility. But, damn it, he thought he could be excused for still thinking that vampires bit people, surely.

"Then how do you...umm..."

"Eat? We use a knife, Harry. You know, comes in various sizes, sharp on one end, usually with a handle..."

Harry pressed his lips together, and shoved his shaking hands out of sight. He was nervous enough as it was, he didn't think he deserved to be mocked as well.

"So where are you going to _cut_?"

"For this, the blood needs to flow strongly. Either your neck, or just below your groin would be best."

Or _where_? Harry froze and stared at him in disbelief.

"Your neck it is then. Enough, let's be on with it."

Before Harry could blink, his shoulders were grabbed in a strong grip. He felt a sharp sting and the world faded away.

XXXXXXX

He opened his eyes into blackness. He took a deep shuddering breath and then coughed it out again. The taste of the air combined his lack of breathlessness confirmed what he already knew - he was no longer living. It wasn't reassuring, as such, but it was exactly what Stephan had promised.

This next bit was going to be somewhat unpleasant. He searched and found the handle, and pulled the lid across. It shifted with a little effort, and dirt started pouring into his coffin. Suddenly panicky, he tried to close it again, but the force of the dirt kept it open. _I don't have to breathe,_ he reminded himself, and pushed the lid all the way clear. He covered his eyes and mouth with his hands until finally the soil came to a halt. He could feel the weight of it pressing against him, but it gave way slightly as he wriggled his leg experimentally. _Swim up_ he repeated the advice mentally. _Push yourself from the bottom of the coffin, 'swim' with your arms, and by the time you are standing your head will be clear. _

He was relieved beyond words when his arms broke free into emptiness. Using muscles he hadn't even known existed, he pulled himself out and dropped the short distance to the floor. He lay there gasping, distantly amused that he had just been buried in a large fish tank full of soil.

Stephan crouched next to him, and started wiping the dirt from his face. Harry sat up and took the cloth from him.

"This is your birth-soil, Harry. It bears a magical imprint of who you were as a human. You will need to return to it frequently to prevent your body from liquefying for the first seven years."

"Liquifying?" He didn't recall that little piece of information from the book.

"Oh, don't worry. It hardly ever happens. We haven't had to pour someone..."

"Pour someone?" Harry's stomach roiled. He really thought this was information he could have used before he had decided to take this step.

"I'm joking, Harry. Your teacher will make sure nothing happens to you."

"Oh," breathed Harry. Stephan's humour was clearly going to take some getting used to. He replayed the sentence in his head, and figured out what had been bothering him about it.

"Wait, what do you mean by my 'teacher'? Won't that be you?"

"Your teacher will be appointed by the council. And as I may have assisted your rebirth without permission, I somehow doubt they'll find me a suitable teacher for you."

This kept on getting worse and worse. He had naively thought dying was the thing he had to concern himself with.

"Let me understand this. You're supposed to ask this council permission before ...um... 'assisting in a rebirth', and you didn't?"

"Pretty much, yes. They can be a little intransigent about the rebirth of wizards."

"So I'm some sort of forbidden vampire?"

"Only until they approve you later tonight."

"What will they do to me if the don't approve me?"

"Relax, Harry. They know the prophecy, too. They're unlikely to do anything permanent."

Strangely enough, that didn't much help Harry to relax. "This was not something you saw fit to tell me before you killed me?"

"You didn't ask."

"I didn't know to ask!" said Harry indignantly.

Stephan grinned ferally.

"Consider this your first lesson as a vampire, then. It's always what you don't know to worry about that ends up tripping you. But you'll be fine."

XXXXXXX

Entirely too short a time later, Harry was kneeling as ordered in a pool of moonlight. Abstractly, he could appreciate the architecture that left him brightly lit and the rest of the room in darkness, but emotionally it served its purpose. The skin on his neck and back crawled as he heard the soft sounds of people moving behind him and around him.

"You are not welcome here, mageling."

It was barely a whisper, but it sounded unnaturally loud to his stretched out senses.

"We did not invite you."

Harry wondered if he was supposed to respond, but it hadn't been a direct question.

"Yet here he is - reborn. The deed is done. We can not undo it."

A much deeper voice. The words were promising, but the tone was not.

"Nor need we support it!"

"Set him free and we risk the compact."

"And kill him, and we risk death."

"The prophecy is unaltered. He must remain in the wizarding world," said the deeper voice with finality.

"Which really leaves us with only one option."

Harry grew tenser as the silence grew, with no further sounds of movement. He almost fell as a gong clanged and startled him about off his skin.

"You will complete your training with Severus Snape. Live until your presentation and we will accept you."

The door opened, and Harry could hear them moving.

"Wait, that's it? All I have to do is survive training?"

"Yes."

"We do not..."

"...expect you..."

"...to succeed."

Harry stayed on his knees long after the last sound had disappeared through the door, unsure and insecure. _Severus Snape_? There were rumours that he was a Vampire, of course, but nothing Harry had ever taken seriously. Why did everyone always want to throw the two of them together? His head fell forward as he realised just how irrevocable this all was. He was stuck like this. A vampire in a community he didn't understand, being trained by _Severus Snape._

XXXXXXX

Stephan assisted Harry home and gave him five vials of his blood to last him through the rest of the holidays. Then he was alone. Alone with his thoughts, alone with his books, and alone with his secretive experiments with his magic. Luckily, it took very little practice until he could cast without using any of his 'additional' talents. It kept the magic stable and would match what everyone else would expect from him.

Despite his loneliness, the end of the holiday caught him unprepared. Harry could barely face meeting up with his friends again as they found themselves a compartment on the train. He missed them terribly, but he would not be able to talk to them about what was really going on ever again and seeing them just brought that fact home to him. But he wouldn't think about that, he told himself firmly. For now, he would just enjoy their eternal bickering.

"Malfoy is head boy. _Malfoy_ is head boy. Malfoy is _head boy_."

"Yes, Ron, I know! Honestly, you were made Quidditch captain, isn't that enough?"

"Hermione!" hissed Ron gesturing at Harry. She rolled her eyes, but looked embarrassed all the same.

"Look, Harry," started Ron awkwardly, "you know you're still an important member to the team, right? And..."

"Ron," interrupted Harry, "I'm not playing Quidditch this year."

Ron looked at him in disbelief.

"It isn't safe anymore, and with all I have to do, I can't really justify the time..."

"It was safe enough last year."

"No, it wasn't. I was taking unnecessary chances."

"He's right, Ron - think of how many times he's already been almost killed on the Quidditch field."

Ron started going red - a sure sign of anger in the teen. "And it just struck you now? It has nothing to do with the fact that they made _me _captain instead of you?"

"No, I told them I wasn't playing before..." Harry winced - he hadn't meant to say that.

"You mean they only made me captain because The Harry Potter wasn't going to be playing this year," said Ron bitterly.

"I don't know who they would have made..."

"Bullshit. You had to take this away from me too, didn't you? Ron Weasley was made a prefect because they didn't want to burden Harry Potter with more responsibility. Ron Weasely is going out with Hermione Granger because it didn't work out between her and Harry Potter. Ron Weasley was made Quidditch captain because Harry Potter had more important things to do."

Harry had nothing to say. That wasn't how it was, but there wasn't anything factual he could contradict.

"Well, _I_ have to get to the prefects compartment. Enjoy your ride into Hogwarts, _hero_."

Harry sprung up and went to stand by the window. He could have so little of them, and even that was being denied him. He felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder, and reached up to grasp it in relief. No, he would be able to balance this. He _would_.

"I'm sorry about that, Harry. Look - I'll talk to him, alright?" she said.

"Yeah, I know how Ron gets. He'll come round. Look, you'd better be off to the prefects compartment too, Miss Head Girl."

Hermione blushed.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm sure."

"Thanks, Harry. I'll see you later."

XXXXXXX


	3. Meeting Snape

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment.

AU. The story starts at the beginning of Harry's seventh year, but ignores the events of HBP. No parings, Snape mentors Harry. OC's, but they will not be the focus of the story.

XXXXXXXX

Harry spent the rest of the train ride miserably reading a book and chatting with some of the other Gryffindors. At the feast, Hermione and Ron positioned themselves at the bottom end of the table to welcome the new first years. It was nothing he could rationally take offence to, but still... He resolved to sit down with Ron as soon as they got back to the dorms. Food would put him in good mood, and they might be able to clear the air straight away.

He picked carefully at his food while the others were eating, and as soon as it was polite, laid down his knife and fork. He stood up and knocked straight into something. Turning around to apologise, he trailed off mid-word - behind him was an exceptionally grim looking Professor Snape.

"Attacking a teacher, Mr Potter? Tsk tsk. I'd expect someone of your fame to be a better role-model, don't you think?"

"I'm sorry, Professor, but it was an accident!"

"So you're telling me you're not a homicidal maniac, simply a clumsy idiot?"

Harry gaped at him.

"And now lack of respect for a professor. I think that calls for a detention. Immediately. With me."

"But..."

"Would you care to make that two, Mr Potter?"

Harry shook his head.

"Then come along."

Snape was half way across the room before Harry had figured it out. _He needs to talk to me about my training. _Harry was irritated at his slowness. _Still, did he have to be such a git about it?_ Immediately the answer to his hypothetical question sprung to his lips. _Yes! _

They soon turned off the normal routes to the potions labs, and Harry had to half ran to keep up with Snape as he sped through dark corridors, twice straight through 'walls'. As they went through the final door, Harry felt a sharp sting. Snape turned and smirked at his involuntary gasp.

"The wards, Potter. Perfectly safe for vampires, but it will do some very nasty things to your little friends if they try to enter here."

"I _know_ I can't tell my friends about this!"

"Really? Because you've never shown the faintest ability to appreciate discretion before."

Harry seethed, but decided to keep his peace for the mean time. He needed answers, and Snape was the only person who could give them to him. He avoided Snape's eyes by examining the room. He was himself strangely disappointed that it wasn't a clichéd dimly lit dungeon. It was hard to take this all seriously while surrounded by beige couches and warm wooden tables.

Severus closed the door behind them, and bowed briefly to one of the statues.

"Lord Mircea, guide me. What have I done to deserve this?"

Irritated and tired of being treated like an object, Harry interrupted, "it's not like I'm looking forward to this either, you know."

Harry didn't even see him turn around. He heard an ominous _crack_, and then the smooth texture of the panelled wall against his cheek. He reached out to stop himself from sliding down, but his left arm didn't seem to want to obey him. He hit the ground with a thump, and his arm exploded with pain. He cradled it in bewilderment. _I've broken my arm_. Harry closed his eyes in a vain effort to stop the dizziness. Snape _broke my arm!_ The silence was absolute, and soon his need to know what was going on outweighed his need to hide. He took a few unneeded breaths and reopened his eyes. He tried to flinch back when he realised Snape's face was no more than two inches from his own, but he was trapped by the wall.

"Potter, childling, _bloodling_, " hissed Snape. "You may act your usual arrogant self beyond these walls, but within them, remember ... who ... we ... are."

The full consequences of his situation came sharply into focus. He had put himself out of Dumbledore's protection and into the hands of _Snape_. He could feel his body trembling and he was getting colder by the second. This man could kill him simply by ceasing to help him, and to say he didn't like Harry would be an absurd understatement.

"Y...yes, Elder," he stammered, hoping that was appropriately respectful.

"Better, but I am not an Elder. You will call me 'Magister'. I do hope your Latin is sufficient to know that means teacher?"

It wasn't, but Harry nodded anyway.

"Good."

Snape stood up and stepped back. Harry could feel his shoulders relaxing as soon as he was no longer trapped against the wall. He hesitantly stood up, still supporting his arm.

"I suppose we _could_ move up the lesson on self-healing," drawled Snape with a smirk. "What do you think, childling?"

Harry bowed his head and spoke with utmost care, "if it pleases you, Magister."

"Hmmm..." said Snape, not bothering to conceal his enjoyment. "We'd better, I suppose, or you'll be even more whinny and inattentive than you usually are."

Thankfully the healing was quite simple, essentially simply reminding the vampire body of what it was supposed to look like and Harry managed to accomplish it without giving way to tears. He somehow didn't think that Snape would be sympathetic.

"I will now show you around the place. Recall where everything is, and take special note of what you may not touch. You may take notes."

He may take _notes_? On a tour? But Snape simply stood and watched him until he dug the appropriate materials out of his bag.

"Here we have the lounge. This is my place to relax, not yours. You will be in here only with me or as is necessary to get to other places. You will not sit on the furniture. You will not put things down on the countertops."

Harry wrote that down to stop himself from reacting. Better Snape treat him like a pet than like a punching bag. He shuffled along behind Snape into a large empty room.

"This is the practice area. As you can see, it contains nothing you can break. You may spend as much time here as you like."

_Gee, thanks._

"This is my specialised laboratory," he said, gesturing at a closed door on the far end. "Do not even approach the door."

_Like I'd want to, anyway._

"This is the general purpose laboratory."

Snape waited for Harry to precede him through the last door. Harry squinted his eyes against the bright lights. After a few blinks, a very white room came into focus - white floors, white walls, and long white countertops. The only things to break the sterility was a network of rat cages in one corner, and a completely incongruous but familiar fish tank in the middle of the floor.

"And here we have the soil you were buried in. You do know that you will need to return to it on a regularly for the first seven years?"

"Yes, Magister."

"We will work out a timetable by which you sleep here occasionally. Once a month should do it, but it will have to be during the day so as not to alert your dormitory mates."

_Oh well, some extra sleep will be nice,_ Harry told himself, deliberately not thinking of the confined space of the coffin.

They walked back into the lounge and Snape took his time settling into a chair. Harry shifted from foot to foot, frustrated.

"Now as to rules. Normal feeding will have to be curtailed while you are at Hogwarts. Eat some of your normal meals, but do not eat large quantities, no matter how hungry you are. Normal food provides very little in the way of sustenance, so you will simply succeed in making yourself ill. I will provide you with what I live on myself, but you are too young to survive on that alone. Therefore while we are here, and only because we are here, you may feed from me once every two weeks. You will observe proper etiquette while doing so."

The enjoyment he took over those words alerted Harry to a new horror.

"Proper etiquette?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh, I'll teach you that in good time, Potter. Well?"

Harry looked at him in confusion.

"Write that down! Honestly, have you not spent six years in my classes?"

Harry scribbled down: _1. Don't eat too much. Feeding from Snape (to be explained later)._ He continued to keep his notes perfectly neutral. He wouldn't put it past Snape to mark it later.

"Secondly, you will take over care of the rats."

"What do you have rats for?"

"To feed from. My blood and the potion will only go so far."

Harry could feel his jaw drop. "You want me to kill them?"

"You have never been a vegetarian, Mr Potter. Or is it perfectly moral to benefit from the actions of others, but beneath you to perform those actions yourself?"

Harry looked away in confusion. He couldn't argue with Snape's point, but to feed and care for the little things just to eat them...

"Next. You are here to learn. I will give up two evenings a week for that purpose. You will be on time, you will be courteous, and you will complete all the assignments I give you. Some of those assignments will be practicals, which you must perform here, the rest you may not. "

Harry nodded, writing that down. _I want to spend as little time here as possible, too._

"Finally, you will not leave Hogwarts without my explicit and express permission."

"So, Hogsmeade weekends...?"

Snape smiled vindictively. "Are to be spent on the grounds."

That one didn't upset Harry as much as Snape had clearly been anticipating. He was pretty sure that this year someone would forbid it. It wasn't safe, and even he saw the wisdom in not taking unnecessary chances.

"We will first be resuming Occlumency training, as I have grave doubts about your training with the headmaster. We will also start training in the other mental arts. They are best taught together, but the Headmaster thought they were too dark for you. And this time you will do what I say."

What? That wasn't what he was here for. "I need to learn to drain Voldemort!"

"You need to learn what I tell you to learn."

"But..."

"Childling..."

Harry clutched his arm and took a step back. "Yes, Magister." Tired off being pushed around, he muttered under his breath "you're getting off on having this kind of power over me."

Snape stood up and stalked over to him, peering down his nose.

"Yes, Potter. Possibly the most irritating, obnoxious person in the world, and I am duty bound to raise you, if that's at all possible, for the next fourteen years. I am ecstatic at the thought of spending that kind of time with you."

"Fourteen years?" Shock at that piece of information almost overcame his fear at being trapped once again.

"Yes, Potter. That is how long it takes before presentation. You will potentially be alive for the rest of eternity, did you imagine we would allow you play by yourself after only a few months?"

"I didn't think..."

"That much is perfectly obvious. I will teach you as I see fit, and you will comply without further whining, is that clear?"

"Yes Magister," whispered Harry in defeat.

Snape stepped back just far enough to let him past. "Now get out of my sight. And don't be late tomorrow."

Harry turned and ran out the door and down the corridor. Within minutes he was out of breath and hopelessly lost. He forced himself to calm down and think. Using his wand to determine his direction every handful of paces and testing every section of wall for hidden entrances, he finally found his way back to familiar passages. It was well after curfew by the time he made it back to his dormitory. He paused by Ron's bed, but Ron would not appreciate being woken up at this time of night. Finally, Harry slipped into his own bed, tired, alone, and not a little afraid.

XXXXXXX


	4. Narrow Escapes

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment.

AU. The story starts at the beginning of Harry's seventh year, but ignores the events of HBP. No parings, Snape mentors Harry. OC's, but they will not be the focus of the story.

A shorter chapter than usual, because of the holidays.

XXXXXXX

"Oi, Harry! Wake up! You're going to be late for breakfast."

Harry groggily felt for his glasses and slipped them on. Ron's face came into focus.

"What time did you get in last night?"

"After midnight, I think," said Harry cautiously.

"I can't believe Snape gave you detention on the very first day. I mean, school hasn't even really started! What happened, anyway?"

"I bumped into him standing up from the table."

"Git."

"Yeah," agreed Harry wholeheartedly, concealing his grin. _It was going to be okay._

The first day of lectures was its usual chaos, but Harry was comfortably between Hermione with her hissed instructions about the classes, and Ron with his whispered comments about everything but. Claiming his late night, Harry went to bed early and set a silent alarm for a half hour after curfew. He'd rather have given himself extra time to find his way back, but it was too risky to sneak out any earlier. Thankfully, armed with his invisibility cloak, his map and a few spells, he arrived at Snape's 'private dungeon' in good time. He paused uncertainly in front of the door, but decided it was probably best to knock.

"In!"

Harry slipped through, and closed the door behind him. Snape glanced up at the clock, but made no comment.

"Go through to the practice area. I will be with you shortly."

Harry walked over to the middle of the open space. He was looking forward to resuming occlumency about as much as Ron looked forward to a four-week fast, and the ground looked very hard. He rubbed the last sleep out of his eyes, and tried to prepare himself – Snape could come through that door at any minute. When Snape finally did, though, it was anticlimactic. He was still leafing through his papers and didn't even make eye contact as he ordered Harry to lie down on the floor. Desperate to postpone the lesson as long as possible, Harry cast about for a distraction.

"May I ask a question?"

Snape glared at him, but at length nodded.

"What?"

_Umm... _"You mentioned other mental arts. Are there more than just occlumency and legilimency?"

"Of course there are."

At Harry's continued blank look, Snape put down his notes and sighed.

"Simply put, the mental arts are these - legilimency is the art of reading thoughts, occlumency is the art of hiding them, parimency of creating, and abrogomency of removing."

"I thought you removed memories with obliviate."

"Obliviate is the wand equivalent and as such much easier. It however only acts on large blocks of memory. More to your tastes, no doubt, but abrogomency is completely undetectable if done correctly. You needn't change the facts if you alter the memory of what they were thinking at the time. Their mind will do the rest for you."

Harry frowned. He'd have to think about that one.

"Now, since your track record is so very discouraging, we'll be going all the way back to the basics. Meditation. Now _lie down_."

Harry obeyed swiftly, flinching slightly as his skin came into contact with the cold stones.

"Close your eyes and count to twenty."

Harry, feeling stupid, obeyed.

"One part of you was counting, but another part of you was worrying what I was going to do while you couldn't see me, trying to figure out why I was making you do this silly exercise, and so on, correct?"

Harry nodded cautiously, wondering if this was a trick question.

"We call that first part the 'reacting self' and the second the 'observing self'. What we need to teach you to do now is separate them completely."

'We' wanted to teach him to do what exactly? Harry had a mental image of himself with full blown multiple personality disorder, having conversations with himself. He didn't see the point of this at all, but he tried his best to follow the instructions - he didn't want a repeat of the previous night. The next two hours might not have been as bad as the original lessons, but they were still overwhelmingly frustrating. At last he was released with a firm injunction to practice.

"Remember, your biggest challenge will not be to block Voldemort, but to lie to Albus Dumbledore and do it so successfully that he never suspects you have anything to hide. If your safety and my own are not enough to motivate you, consider that the Headmaster himself will be killed should he find out about vampires. Consider that the next time you decide my instructions are not worthy of your notice."

Harry fought to keep his fists from clenching. Would Snape never stop rubbing his nose in it? Not trusting himself to speak, he simply nodded and left as quickly as possible. He vowed that this time, he would give Snape no excuse to criticise him. Every evening, after he had gone to bed, he practised the silly and contradictory exercises Snape was giving him. But by the end of the week, all Harry wanted to do was sleep. Even during classes, if he sat still for too long his eyelids started descending without conscious control.

Startled awake for the third time by his head falling forward, Harry dug his nails into his thigh, using the pain to keep himself a little more alert. He pointed his wand at the block of wood he was supposed to be transfiguring into a small tree, and tried the incantation again. He had mostly expected it to do absolutely nothing. He wasn't anticipating it to grow teeth and lunge at him. He pushed his chair back violently, crashing into the desk behind him. Seconds later he was flat on his back, overturned furniture all around him, holding off a vicious set of wooden teeth with both hands.

"Finite Incantatem!"

Harry stared up at the upside –down face of Professor McGonagall in relief until he recalled himself and scrambled back to his feet. This wasn't a good thing. This wasn't a good thing at all. He'd lost control of his vampire impulses, and his subconscious was a little disturbing. Too tired to come up with a decent lie, Harry simply hedged.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I don't know what happened."

"It's all right, Potter. Boys your age often have difficulties with control. Just pay attention to what you're doing and it'll pass soon enough."

When her meaning finally registered, Harry felt like giggling. She thought he was, well... _that_. That he had 'a perfectly normal physical manifestation of excess hormones'. The whole class thought that... well. It really shouldn't have been a funny thought, but Harry could barely hold on to his hysterics. Keeping his head well down, he cleaned up his desk, and headed down to supper with the rest of the students.

Halfway there, Hermione swung him into a deserted corridor and gave him one of her patented glares.

"Well?"

_Shit. _He thought he'd come out of this one unscathed.

"Well, what?"

"Well, what happened n transfiguration?"

Harry, ducked his head, pretending to be embarrassed. _Don't push this Hermione, please_.

"Well... err... you heard Professor McGonagall." 

Hermione folded her arms and rocked back on one foot.

"Don't give me that. It's never made you lose control before."

"Hermione!" asked Harry, scandalised. "You've been _looking?_"

Hermione's eyes went wide, and she sputtered for a solid thirty seconds before replying.

"No! Of course not. It's just...Oh never mind."

_Thank Merlin._ He'd avoided catastrophe twice in one day. All he needed now as for Ron to suddenly become perceptive, and for Snape to find out about it from McGonagall. But at least for now, he had made it. He trailed after Hermione as she made her way down to the Great Hall. Just before they entered, Hermione paused again.

"Harry. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"Yes, Hermione."

"You're not alone, Harry. If there's something wrong..."

"There's nothing wrong."

"Just... I'm here Harry. Remember that."

"I will."

XXXXXXX


	5. Confrontations

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment.

AU. The story starts at the beginning of Harry's seventh year, but ignores the events of HBP. No parings, Snape mentors Harry. OC's, but they will not be the focus of the story.

Apologies for the lack of update last week - I was on holiday, and didn't have internet access.

XXXXXXX

Harry sneaked down to the common room early. It wasn't as inconspicuous as practicing in his dorm, but the sound of the other boys hammered on the edges of his nerves. He settled himself, and started the same exercise again, with the same, nonexistent results. Sighing, he took the opportunity to stretch.

"That isn't going to work."

Harry flailed his arms to keep his balance, and turned to the source of the interruption.

"What?" he asked Neville blankly.

"Doing the same thing over and over again. It doesn't work. If you aren't making any progress with one method, then you need to come at it from a different angle."

"But he said to do it this way."

"What's more important to you, learning how to do it, or proving 'him' wrong?"

_That has nothing to do with it,_ Harry thought mutinously. _I'm just obeying orders._ Finally, his situation and his manners caught up with him. This was hardly the way to remain inconspicuous about the whole affair.

"I'll keep that it mind, Neville. Are you on your way to breakfast?"

"Still a little early. I'm checking on something in the greenhouses, and then I'll be along."

"See you there, then."

Neville nodded and walked out, but popped his head back in.

"Think about it, Harry. I know you're not used to struggling with things, but it's not worth hexing your wand to spite your spell."

Harry looked after him, a little perplexed. Neville had changed this year. Or had he always been like that and Harry hadn't noticed before? He shook his head, and scrambled up the stairs before anyone else woke up. _Note to self: don't do any exercises in the common room no matter what the hour._

XXXXXXX

Harry thought about Neville's strange advice on and off all day, but decided in the end that while he had a point, he was wrong in this case. What was important was following Snape's instructions until he gave in and taught him how to defeat Voldemort – no more and no less. He was soon distracted from his thoughts as he crashed quite solidly into the back of Malfoy. What did he expect, stopping for no reason in the middle of a corridor?

"Watch it, Potter! Didn't your parents raise you with any manners? Oh I forgot. Your parents didn't raise you at all."

"Well, at least I wasn't raised to be an utter prat!" He retaliated lamely.

"Potter!"

_Oh great. Snape. _Harry turned sideways and backed off as far as the width of the corridor allowed – no way was he going to turn his back on Malfoy.

"Yes, Professor?"

"That'll be ten points off Gryffindor for your language."

"But Professor!"

"And detention. Immediately, with me."

Harry growled under his breath as he followed Snape, ignoring Malfoy's mocking laughter. Snape didn't have to take off _points_ just because they needed more time together this evening. And if Snape had just given him some vials of blood like Stephan had, they wouldn't need this little feeding session at all. He stood, long suffering, in the centre of the lounge and waited to be told what to do.

"You will spend two hours scrubbing the practice room floor after feeding tonight."

Harry looked up from his feet in consternation. It hadn't been an excuse to get him down here - Snape was actually punishing him!

"But... But Malfoy started it!"

"Unfortunately, I am not in a position to dictate Malfoy's behaviour. Fortunately, I am in a position to dictate yours. Two hours _before_ feeding."

His breath was momentarily taken away by a stomach cramp, which, all things considered, was a good thing. Harry despondently fetched the cleaning supplies from the lab, and made a start. Even with his new vampire stamina and healing powers, his back and knees ached by the time Snape finally came to release him.

"Very well. The procedure for accepting blood from a superior is this – you will kneel, with your hands firmly behind your back, and ask for blood. After I agree, you will tilt your head back and open your mouth. At no point in this procedure will you make physical contact with me, is that understood?"

"What the... I'm not doing that!"

"You will if you want blood."

"Stephan never asked me to do anything of the kind."

"Elder Stephan, Harry."

"He said I could..."

"No, he didn't. Using his name without an honorific in the wrong company would get you severely punished. While I might find that amusing, I hardly think that Elder Stephan would do that to you."

Harry blushed.

"Elder Stephan was required elsewhere by the council when you were first reborn. That meant that certain short-cuts could be taken for someone as untrained as you. But now you need to learn and follow protocol."

"But why?"

"For one thing, you will, sooner or later, have to interact with other Strigoi, and most of them are not as patient as I am. The rites need to be instinctive by that point, or you will make a mistake. Secondly, I am not about to throw millennia of customs away because they offend your foolish muggle sensibilities."

"I don't care. I'm not kneeling, and..." Harry pursed his lips in an expression of distaste.

"If you wish."

Harry was surprised at his easy victory - there had to be a catch.

"You can continue to feed off rats. In two weeks time, at our _regular_ scheduled session, we will see if you've changed your mind."

"I won't," said Harry with his arms crossed. He felt like a petulant child, but what kind of person did Snape take him for to ask that of him?

"We'll see," repeated Snape maddeningly. "Now, recite for me, please, the four things that can kill you."

"Incineration, dismemberment, starvation and uhh... exsanguination... "

"No, you moronic twerp. Exsanguination simply stops all your organs from functioning. I asked for things that could kill you."

"But it would kill me in a sense."

"If you are too stupid to figure out what I was asking for, then let me clarify. Four things from which you can not return."

"ahh, well..."

Eventually Harry conceded defeat.

"I don't remember the last, Magister."

"Prolonged contact to the wood of a wild rose."

"Oh, yes. That."

"I don't know how you managed to survive childhood. Did they label the stove as 'hot' for you?"

"No, Magister. I'm sorry, I'll remember in future."

"Any three dangerous situations."

"Exsanguination!"

"Besides that."

"Being kept away from my birth soil, uh... mental disconnection, and, and, exposure to werewolves?"

"Well, the last is only your reaction to them, rather than any danger they may pose, but I'll accept it. You'll also want to stay away from an upir until you are a little older. It won't recognise what you are, but you will make it nervous, and that might make it dangerous."

"'It'? Upir aren't animals."

All Harry knew of them was the usual instruction given in DADA, but they were perfectly sentient magical beings, he knew that much.

"So speaks someone who's never met one. Your average lesser vampire is about as related to us as mice are to muggles."

Harry opened his mouth again, but was quickly interrupted.

"Enough! You may go. We'll continue your lessons next time."

"Yes, Magister," muttered Harry, rolling his eyes. Some sleep did sound good, after all.

XXXXXXX

Two weeks, and another chance to get blood from Snape. He had wondered if he would give in, if he would be that weak, but he knew now that he would. He looked at himself in the mirror, and acknowledged the shameful truth to himself – by now, there wasn't much he wouldn't do to get any amount of Snape's blood. He washed his face and composed himself to hide the tell-tale signs of longing before heading down. At the bottom of the stairs he was forced to stop - Ron and Hermione were sitting on one of the couches, alert and watchful. Harry realised with a sinking heart that they were waiting for him. Hermione had tried to drag him off to a quiet spot a few times already this week, but he'd been busy with Snape's assignments, and hadn't known what to say in any case.

_I don't have time for this now!_

He could sneak past them, but the door opening would be a dead give-away. And if they chased after him or even called after him, they'd be drawing attention to him that he really couldn't afford. He withdrew into the shadows and removed his cloak. He'd better clear this up before they reported him or anything else damaging. He could feel their eyes boring into him as he crossed over to where they were sitting.

"Yes, I'm going out tonight, no, I'm not doing anything stupid," _well, any more than usual, _"and no, I can't talk to you about it."

"You don't trust us anymore, Harry," said Hermione, sounding more defeated than angry.

"It's not that! I just can't tell you about this!"

"Tell us about anything, then. What does the prophecy actually say? And don't tell us you don't know."

"Why have you being getting cramps?"

Harry thought he had been hiding his hunger better than that. Who else had noticed? Would they think anything of it? He'd have to admit this to Snape, who would insist he killed more rats.

"How is it that you seem to spend all your time studying, but aren't doing any better in any of your classes?"

"What are your plans for after school?"

Harry stayed silent. They were right - he couldn't talk to them about those things either.

Eventually Ron said wistfully, "I remember when we used to tell each other everything."

"We grew up, Ron! I don't know if you noticed, but we're at war."

Did they not think he too wanted to reclaim their carefree childhood? Not that it had been all that carefree, and he remembered large portions of times when they had not 'told each other everything', even if Ron seemed to have conveniently forgotten them.

"Harry!" chided Hermione. "We know there are some things you can't tell us, but of late, there seems to be nothing you can tell us. We're not asking you to tell us the details of the Order's plans. We just want to know how you're doing. What are you having problems with, and what are you enjoying? Who are you getting on with, and who have you been arguing with? How do you feel? Are you happy, scared, angry?"

"You haven't even been bitching about teachers or homework to us anymore, Harry. What's up with being polite to Snape and Malfoy? Is Dumbledore still keeping things from you? Where are you planning on living next summer?"

He longed to tell them with all his heart. He has been so desperately alone in his vampirism all this time. But what could he say? He couldn't tell them about his hunger pangs, even in an indirect way. He couldn't tell them about his weird relationship with Snape. He could probably tell them it scared him that he might die, but he couldn't explain to them how it scared him that he might live. Hermione was smart, and she was almost fanatical about trying to work things out. He simply could not afford to give her any clues - if they figured out his secret both they and he would be killed.

"You didn't even come to our last quidditch game. Did you even know that we won? Ginny was really upset that you didn't even congratulate her."

"Harry, we really have been trying, but you have to put some effort into this too. If you can't tell us anything or spend any time with us, then you're not being a friend."

"We've discussed this, and, well..."

"When you're prepared to be our friend again, come tell us."

"Until then, we can't cope with the stress of worrying about someone who doesn't care."

They finished off this obviously rehearsed speech as they stood. After less than a moment of silence, they walked off to their separate dormitories.

Harry wanted to run after them and protest, but there was nothing to say. He ducked out of sight to pull his invisibility cloak on again – he would need to run to make it down to Snape in time.

XXXXXXX


	6. Conversations

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment.

AU. The story starts at the beginning of Harry's seventh year, but ignores the events of HBP. No parings, Snape mentors Harry. OC's, but they will not be the focus of the story.

XXXXXXX

It was mid-October when Stefan first stopped past for a visit. Harry had to be called out of the practice room to greet him. Despite wanting to talk to Stefan, he was strangely hesitant about having another person in their private space after all this time.

"Childling," Stefan smiled at Harry.

"Elder," said Harry softly, nervous.

"What can we do for you, Elder?" asked Snape.

"I was wondering if I might be permitted to visit with my bloodling from time to time. Under any conditions you deem suitable, of course."

Snape stiffened and Harry held his breath. He was forgot to breath quite frequently now in stressful situations, and Snape usually reprimanded him for it. This time, however, Snape had other things on his mind. At last, Snape nodded.

"Very well. I trust you to maintain appropriate contact. Harry is free for ten minutes now, if that's convenient."

"Thank you, Magister Snape, it is very much appreciated."

"I'll be in my lab if you need me."

Stefan called a chair to him, and sat down facing Harry. Harry shifted. He still wasn't allowed to use to furniture in this room, but he wasn't expected to stand for the entire visit, was he? Eventually he compromised, and after a nod from Stefan, arranged himself cross-legged on the floor.

"How are you adapting?"

"Smoothly enough, I think. I'm not losing control of my Wizarding side anymore, and my Strigoi side is developing as expected."

"So you're well then?"

"Well... no. I mean physically, I'm okay, but I'm not really coping very well with the other stuff."

"Oh?"

"My friends aren't speaking to me because I'm keeping too many secrets from them, and Sn.. Magister Snape won't let me approach them or anyone else because he thinks it's better that I don't have any friends, and he won't even teach me how..."

"It is better," interrupted Stefan. "Magister Snape himself is still too young to safely maintain friendships with the living. You are utterly incapable of it."

Harry swayed back at the force of Stefan's presence. His back and neck prickled with this reminder of the older vampire's power.

"Yes, Elder," he whispered

"And was that a complaint about your teacher's methods?"

"I'm sorry, Elder."

"I'm not the one you should be apologising to."

Stefan's voice softened, and he reverted to the relaxed person he had been at the beginning of their visit. "Have a little faith in your Magister's judgement, Harry. He is a good teacher."

Harry's face must have given away what he thought about that statement, but he kept his peace. He didn't want to go though another lecture. This was the first time he had seen Stefan since he started Hogwarts, and he wasn't prepared to risk driving away the only person he could talk to about his life. The conversation turned surprisingly easy to lighter matters - Stefan was an attentive listener and an amusing conversationalist. Within an eye-blink, the ten minutes had passed. Snape walked back in after a brief knock on the door, and Harry rose to his feet.

"Childing?" prompted Stefan.

Harry was confused for a second before remembering the apology he was supposed to give. Harry felt queasy – this really wasn't going to go well. He hadn't expected Stefan to go through with it, and there was no where to back out now.

"I beg your pardon, Magister. I complained about your teaching to Elder Stefan. It was wrong and immature of me, and I apologise for speaking of you disrespectfully."

Harry felt his throat tense and Snape pulled himself to his full height.

"We will discuss it later, Harry. Elder Stefan, can I interest you in anything?"

"No, thank you, I'd best be on my way. I wouldn't like to stress my protections to much and bring that fearsome Headmaster of yours down on us. I'll visit again as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Elder."

"Stay well, Magister Snape, Harry."

Harry muttered his goodbyes as his only potential saviour left the room, leaving him alone with an enraged Snape.

"What did you say to Elder Stefan?"

"I wasn't complaining about you being unfair or anything. I was just upset about my friends, and feeling frustrated that I haven't been learning the soul draining stuff," justified Harry swiftly.

"And what did he reply?"

"That I should trust your judgement, Magister."

Snape's lips twitched, and Harry stared at him in surprise. Well. That was an unexpected way to escape the man's bad mood. After almost a token lecture, Harry was shuffled off to seek his bed.

By the next lesson, Harry had decided to take everyone's advice.

"Magister?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there any other approach to learning this?"

Snape turned and looked at him. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I feel I've reached a block with this method. My expectation of failure has become a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy, I think," said Harry. He wasn't at all sure how Snape would react to his question, and didn't want to risk sounding as though he was accusing Snape of being a bad teacher.

"Well... yes, I suppose you might do well to use one of the more emotive methods for a while. Lie down."

Harry made himself comfortable, relieved. That hadn't gone badly at all. In fact, he'd go as far as to say that went very well.

"Now forget about trying to remain objective. Instead, I want you to recall a time when you were very cold. Remember how it made you feel, what it did to your body and to your mind. Remember what you noticed first, and what bothered you the most. Re-experience that now. Recall the circumstances if you have to, but don't concentrate on them. Don't just think of coldness, _be_ cold."

Harry obeyed the instructions easily. Unlike the previous exercises, these were quite fun. It didn't take long for Snape to switch to more complex and less enjoyable exercises, but not before Harry had mastered the ability to assume a state of mind at will. It should be more than enough to confuse wandless legilimency, so it was with trepidation and not terror that Harry responded to a summons from Dumbledore.

"Harry, my boy, sit down, sit down."

Harry accepted the tea and refused the sweets, as he did every time he visited the man. He briefly wondered if the ritual was supposed to be soothing or intimidating, but it served the admirable purpose of giving him something to look at. Avoiding the Headmaster's eyes would help in concealing any suspicious behaviour, and was well in keeping with the persona the Headmaster expected him to be. Fawkes was missing, which was also a relief. He was never entirely sure just how sentient that bird was.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I called you in today."

Harry made a noncommittal noise at this inanity.

"It is simply that of late we've been a little concerned about you, Harry."

"Concerned?" Harry brought some of his irritation to the surface, and faked some puzzlement. He concealed his bubbling apprehension. Who was 'we' exactly, and concerned about what? Was it anything that could give him or Snape away? Would he be able to get through this without screwing up?

"Your friends have been in to see me."

Harry tried to figure out what exactly they could have said and what reaction would divert Dumbledore from the dangerous questions. Should he try and pre-empt any of it, or would that risk giving Dumbledore information that he didn't have yet? He pasted on a neutral face, but brought some anger to just below the surface where it would be easily visible to Dumbledore. No matter how harmless their report, it would be expected that he would dislike the interference.

"Headmaster, just because Ron, Hermione and I are currently fighting, that doesn't mean that I have something wrong with me. These things happen," _and you never cared before,_ finished Harry deliberately.

There. It's just a schoolyard quarrel. Nothing to see here. Concentrate on the hurt feelings and the abandonment issues instead.

"Of course, my dear boy. I am just a little worried that you seem to be becoming a little isolated."

_How would you possibly know?_

His occlumency was not meant to be of a very high standard, so he gave the Headmaster plenty to read. The angry young man persona everyone had come to expect from him came in very useful in this regard – nice and simple to indulge in.

On cue, Dumbledore looked troubled.

"Harry, all of us do honestly care for your well-being."

Harry decided he had taken this as far as was useful, and that it was time to try a different tack. It would be dangerous to use too heavy a hand – he couldn't let the Headmaster realise he was faking it. It was time to use a more genuine reaction. He brought some fear to the surface, and crumpled in on himself, cradling his tea-cup in both hands.

"Yes, Headmaster. There's nothing wrong, really. It's just… it's just Voldemort. I can _feel_ it won't be long now." _And I'm scared._

"Your friends can help you with that, Harry."

"Honestly, Headmaster? No, they can't. They don't really understand, and, well… Hermione and Ron still deserve the time to be children."

"Oh, Harry. You still deserve time to be child, too."

"I might deserve it, but I'm not going to get it."

"I wish we could have found away to let you play quidditch this year."

"That's alright, Headmaster. I suggested it if you remember."

"I know. But I'm concerned that you seem to be punishing yourself. Take the time to relax and play."

"When this is over," Harry said with genuine resignation, "when this is all over."

Dumbledore didn't protest any further. After another round of tea and sweets, he continued the original interrogation.

"So how have you been spending your time?"

"Practising and researching, mostly. Looking for ways to defeat Voldemort. The Room of Requirement is very useful."

"I notice you've been spending time with Professor Snape."

"Yes," answered Harry. No need to panic; it was inevitable that Dumbledore would have noticed that much. "He has a lot to teach me."

"How are the two of you getting along?"

Harry shrugged. "Compared to Voldemort, our differences are minor." Misleading, but true.

Dumbledore looked proud of him, and the fear uncoiled from Harry's spine as the headmaster uttered a few more platitudes. Harry was still playing the 'pity me' card, but he was hard pressed to conceal his glee. He'd managed everything he wanted out of this little 'chat', and he thanked whoever was listening that Dumbledore either didn't know about his cramps or had discounted it. He had won this round. He wondered suddenly why he had ever felt overwhelmed by this man. Dumbledore played the game very well, but at the end of the day that was what he was doing – playing a game, not showing emotion. And Harry was starting to feel more confident about his own technique.

XXXXXXX


	7. and Chaos

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment.

AU. The story starts at the beginning of Harry's seventh year, but ignores the events of HBP. No parings, Snape mentors Harry. OC's, but they will not be the focus of the story.

WARNING: Character death.

XXXXXXX

"Come with us, Harry. Even McGonagall thinks it is safe enough for you to join us," said Neville softly.

"If Voldemort finds out I'm in Hogsmeade, it won't be safe for anyone. I'm not prepared to do that." _and Snape would kill me personally_.

"Stop being such a git, Harry."

"Ron..."

"Come, let's go," said Ginny, "if he wants to wallow in his misery, I vote we should leave him."

Ron herded them all out the door without another glance. Harry's shoulders fell. He was still under orders to estrange himself from his social group, but he had never expected it to be this easy. He found grim amusement in the fact that this was proving such a good exercise in separation - his observing self was telling him to be relieved, while his reacting self was telling him to be upset. The reminder was enough, and he straightened his spine deliberately. His problems with his friends were insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He had work to do.

He was less than an hour into his revision when Professor McGonagall burst through the portrait.

"Oh, thank Merlin you're here Potter."

Harry leapt to his feet, his books scattering on the floor. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"There are Death Eaters in Hogsmeade."

Harry felt his stomach drop. He moved towards the portrait, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"No, Harry. We don't know the extent of the damage yet, but we can't afford more people going out and getting into danger. I need you to stay here, and keep everyone in the common room. Can I rely on you to look after the younger years?"

Harry took a few deep breaths. He didn't need Snape here to know what his orders would be. "Yes, Professor," he said in defeat.

"Good. There'll be some-one stationed in the entrance hall if you need anything."

Harry stared after her longingly as she slipped back out the portrait. He had always had difficulty accepting not knowing what was going on. He shook himself and returned to the task at hand. Casting _sonorous_ on himself he announced: "Could all Gryffindors report to the common room immediately."

Sooner than he could have imagined, there was a small sea of faces around him. He double-checked to make sure – not a single student above second year present except for him. No one more qualified to pass the duty onto.

"Professor McGonagall asked me to tell you that there's been a little trouble in Hogsmeade, and she'd like us all to stay here in the room until it's sorted out."

"Is it you-know-who?"

"Are things getting blown up?"

"Are people dying?"

Harry cringed at the excitement in their voices.

"It's all a little confused at the moment, but I'm sure the Headmaster and the Aurors have it well in hand." Harry cast about for inspiration and seized on a book of plays resting on the table.

"Anne, is this yours?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Would you mind if I made a few copies so we can read through it?"

"Sure."

He had them rearrange furniture, and take parts in one of the more popular plays. It settled them for a time, but they were swiftly stirred up again when the Creevey brothers came in, dirty and ragged.

"What's happening?"

"Did you see anyone die?"

"Everyone..." tried Harry, but he was swiftly overridden by more voices.

"Did you get them good?"

"What did they do to you?"

"SILENCE!"

The group stilled and stared at him in shock. Before they could recover, Harry continued in a normal voice.

"Colin, Dennis, do you need any medical help?"

"No, Harry."

"Then go clean up and change, and come back here as soon as you can. We're to stay to the common room." He smiled at them, and was relieved to see them smile back. "Now, Sal, it was your line?"

The other returnees went much smoother, and soon enough, most of the house was perched in a large circle around Harry, the younger years on laps and on the floor. But the faces Harry was most interested in hadn't returned by the time the flood of arrivals had come to a halt. Harry couldn't stop himself from turning to the door as it opened, disappointed to see it was just McGonagall.

"Thank you, Harry, you've been a tremendous help. Go on up to the Headmaster's office, I'll take over from now here."

Harry nodded, not wanting to question her in front of the kids. He sped along the passages and stairs, pushing through the unlocked door into Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster wasn't there, but somebody else was.

"Neville!"

Harry surprised them both by hugging him.

"What's going on? Where's everyone?"

"Death Eaters. They've got..." Neville trailed off.

"Are they dead?"

"Not... not when I left. They had the girls pinned down, but..."

"Killing wasn't what they had in mind." Harry finished grimly when Neville didn't continue.

"No."

"And Ron?"

"They didn't catch him. We were walking a little behind – the girls were talking girl-talk, you know? He stayed to keep an eye on them while I came back to get help."

"You did a good job Neville. They're going to be okay, I'm sure."

Harry's voice didn't sound convincing, even to him, and they sat in glum silence until the door opened again. They both came to their feet.

"Sir? What happened?"

"Miss Lovegood, Miss Weasley and Miss Granger are fine. They're being taken to the hospital wing for a check-over as we speak."

Harry picked up on the omission and tried to make eye contact with the Headmaster.

"And Ron?"

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, boys, but Mr Weasley was killed in the fight."

Harry choked and fell back into his chair.

"Are you sure, Professor?" asked Neville.

"Yes, Neville, I'm afraid so."

"What..." Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly too dry to speak. "What happened?"

"I don't know the full story yet. When we arrived, Mr Weasley had the girls behind him and was attempting to duel the three Death Eaters. One Death Eater cast a cutting hex on him before Kingsley could stun him. When the other two noticed us, they cast various shields that prevented us from nearing the group for several minutes. They spent that time retrieving their colleague and port-keying out. We cast multiple healing spells on Mr Weasley as soon as the shields failed, but it was already too late. The Death Eater had severed a major vein, and he bled out very rapidly. But take comfort in the fact that it was not a painful death, and Mr Weasley died fighting for what he believed in."

It wasn't much comfort. Harry felt hazy. Anything he tried to think of brought him back to the startling realisation that Ron was dead. He followed Neville obediently to the hospital wing, not knowing what to say to the girls or how to comfort them. It was with shamed relief that he discovered they were sedated. Madame Pomphrey allowed them only the briefest glimpse of them before sending them on their way. Neville headed off for the greenhouses without a word. Harry let him go. He didn't know what to say to Neville either.

XXXXXX

Harry was still feeling unreal as he made his way down to Snape that evening.

"Oh, for pity's sake, Potter, sit down then, if you're incapable of working."

Harry sat down hesitantly into one of Snape's lounge chairs. They were as comfortable as they looked, and that seemed treacherous. They added to the aura of falsity the day was taking on.

"I assume the events at Hogsmeade have you in this state."

"It's just so hard to believe. But I suppose he got to be a hero after all."

"Yes, I would never have thought Longbottom capable."

Harry blinked in confusion.

"I was talking about Ron."

"The Weasley boy wasn't a hero, Potter. He was a fool who got himself killed. I understand the difference is hard for your Gryffindor mind to grasp."

"But he saved the girls!" said Harry in outrage.

"They were in no immediate danger. If he had waited for the rescue party..."

"They would have been raped."

"But they would have lived. Do you honestly believe that Miss Granger, for example, values her virginity higher than Weasley's life? Or Miss Weasley? Which do you think at this moment they would rather have? They will live the rest of their lives with the knowledge that he died for them, a sacrifice they no doubt didn't even want. He was being the typical Gryffindor - dying gloriously with no regard for the people who have to clean up the mess once they have gone."

Harry stood up; his breaths coming in rapid pants. Ron couldn't be dead, not really. And he absolutely positively could not be dead for no good reason. No-one, not Snape, not Dumbledore, not anyone, was going to say that about him!

"Are you upset because Weasley died, or because you didn't save him?"

Harry froze in horror. Feeling the tears welling behind his eyes, he ran for the comfort of the practice room. _That wasn't it. It wasn't!_

Harry came out hesitantly some time later, but Snape made no comment about his red eyes. Even more shockingly, Snape handed him a cup of hot chocolate and gestured back at the chair.

"It would have been worse for all of them if you had been there, Potter."

Harry nodded. They wouldn't have stopped to 'play' if they had caught him – they would have killed them or taken them to Voldemort immediately. The knowledge didn't much help.

"Maybe I could have gone in disguise."

"They're trained Death Eaters, Potter. A glamour charm would hardly hide your true appearance from them."

"But I could change the Vampire way. The way you told me you were going to train me to age and stuff?"

"You wish to disappear now? I thought you wished to remain Harry Potter to the Wizarding world."

"I can't just, you know, swap back?"

"No, Harry, you can not 'swap back'. Making your body follow a different set of instructions from the one you have is a complex process, and the body reacts slowly. If you decided to be blond, for example, you would have to sheer your hair and wait for it to grow out again. If you want something less permanent, glamour charms and dyes are the best you have available to you."

"That's what you use. Dyes," said Harry suddenly certain, although he would have sworn blind the git was naturally ugly just a few hours before.

"Yes. Skin and teeth, although my hair has been manipulated. I am just emphasising what I have naturally, so the process is simple and not easily detectable."

"But why?"

"So I don't have friends dying prematurely on me."

Harry guiltily realised he had forgotten about Ron for a few minutes_. Ron, damn it, you weren't supposed to die._

"Catch, Potter."

Harry reflexively caught the vial of dreamless sleep.

"Go to bed and get some sleep. That's an order, Potter."

"Yes, Magister."

Harry was perfectly willing to block out the world for a few hours.

XXXXXXX


	8. Aftermath

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment.

AU. The story starts at the beginning of Harry's seventh year, but ignores the events of HBP. No parings, Snape mentors Harry. OC's, but they will not be the focus of the story.

XXXXXXX

All classes were cancelled the next day, and the common room was inundated with emotions as the house collected there. Little cliques huddled around on sofas telling and retelling their horror stories. The vast majority had been in no danger, and those who had brushed it seemed to be swiftly forgetting their fear as they basked in the awed attention of their classmates. Most of those affected would be returning home that afternoon, but in the mean time everyone was relying on the support of their peers. Harry noticed they all left a respectful space around the people who knew Ron. It was different for them. For them it hadn't been a terrifying but thrilling near miss - it had been a direct hit.

They sat together in a little circle of chairs well away from the fireplace. Except for Ginny and Neville, they were at least pretending to work. Ginny was on the floor in front of Hermione leaning back against her legs, and examining the ceiling, while Neville was staring at his knees. Ginny was still very dazed, and Harry didn't think Neville had made eye contact with anyone since they'd retrieved Ron's body.

"Maybe we should have stayed in town with the others. Maybe then…" Neville trailed off.

"We were just on the path to the shrieking shack," Ginny replied. "We've walked there a thousand times. We couldn't have known there'd be Death…" her voice broke on the word and she took a visible breath before continuing. "…Death Eaters waiting."

"But with the war on we shouldn't have risked moving so far away from the teachers. We shouldn't even been in Hogsmeade in the first place, really."

"If we let the enemy destroy our lives, then they've won already. This wasn't our fault, Neville," Ginny spoke as if by rote. "We were somewhere we had every right to expect to be safe."

"Where were you, Harry?" asked Hermione suddenly.

"I was here in the common room," said Harry slowly, not understanding the question.

"No, I mean where were you? We were fighting and... and dying, and you were here keeping safe. Did you stay behind because you knew something?"

"No! How could you think I would keep something like that to myself?"

He couldn't believe that Hermione thought that. Was that what everyone else was thinking? That he would deliberately let them walk into danger while he remained safe? He had been trying to protect them. Everything he had given up, his time, his freedom, his _humanity,_ was to protect them, and they could think that of him?

"I don't know, Harry. I don't think I know you at all, these days. I always thought I could count on you to be there when I needed you, but yesterday I needed you and you weren't there. I was terrified, but I kept telling myself that you would come and rescue us. That you wouldn't really have let us go into Hogsmeade all alone. That any second you would come round the corner. But you never did. Instead you just stayed safely here in the common room, even after you found out what had happened. If you had been there like you were supposed to, then Ron wouldn't have had to die!"

"That's enough, Hermione!" announced Neville unexpectedly. "Do you blame _me_ for not dying?"

"No, Neville, I'd never..."

"Then how dare you blame Harry? Despite what the headmaster may think, it isn't his job to die for us!"

Harry was stunned. Neville was not only standing up for him against Hermione, he was also indirectly criticising the Headmaster. He would never have predicted that Neville would be the one who would have picked up on that unwritten assumption.

"Do you want to make him responsible for everything that happens to _everyone_? Just because you're grieving that doesn't give you the right to be a bitch!"

There was shocked silence at that. Neville blushed slowly under the group's stares.

"Um…that…well…" Neville got up and fled the room.

"Now see what you've done!"

Hermione disentangled herself from Ginny and ran after Neville. Harry stared after her wide eyed. She… he didn't know what to think about her.

He clenched and unclenched his fists slowly, and then started gathering his materials together. Snape had suggested he come round for extra training anyway.

"Harry..." said Ginny softly.

Harry paused, comforted by her tone. But what was he going to say to her? She had just lost her brother. She shouldn't be expected to reassure other people. And he wondered if on some level she didn't blame him too.

"If you would all excuse me?" he said politely.

No one protested as he walked out.

XXXXXXX

Harry shucked off his cloak and started doing the preparations for his mental exercises. The deep breaths, though, were anything but soothing at this moment.

"Magister, I'm not sure I'll be of much use today."

"Oh? What makes that more true today than any other day?"

"I can't seem to calm down."

"Do you think when you confront the Dark Lord you will be perfectly calm?"

"No, but don't you think it might be a good idea if I can get it working when I'm calm _first_, and then move on to getting it right under duress?"

"No."

Harry hissed in exasperation.

"Do you wish to throw a tantrum? Perhaps I should get you a playpen so you can beat your fists and stomp your feet without injuring yourself. I'll tell you what, if you don't wish to work now, I'll set one up for you with some fluffy stuffed unicorns. What do you think?"

Harry wasn't sure if Snape would actually go through with the threat. His punishments always tended to be on the creative side, and mentoring Harry seemed to inspire him to new heights.

"I'll work, Magister."

"Are you certain? Because I can get hold of one quite easily."

"I'm sure. Thank you."

Harry forced a pleasant smile. 'Proper respect' he had learnt painfully, meant being nice despite what Snape's own mood was.

"That's better. You can make your distress the focus of your exercise. Begin."

Harry made himself comfortable on the floor, and resumed the latest in exercises. The essence of it was simple – all he had to do was 'count' using an easy spell to project a coloured number onto the surface of a cube. He was to count slowly from one through ten, cycling through seven colours onto each surface of the cube in order. Without using any artificial means to help him keep track, while attempting to meditate on his recent argument.

_Curse it, when is Snape going to admit this wasn't working?_

Then he realised. He was thinking that – a fully expressed complex thought – without skipping a beat in the exercise. He had done it! Immediately he slipped. Taking a deep breath, he started again, concentrating on what he had felt at the very moment of the separation. With a discernible jar, his thought processes came into focus. Temporarily oblivious to the outside world, he watched himself in amazement. What a jumbled mess of emotions! Gently he became aware of another presence with him.

_Strengthen the amusement_.

Not entirely sure what he was doing, Harry looked for the elements of amusement he had felt during the argument. As he concentrated on them, they came into focus and started drowning out the other emotions.

_Now the sadness._

He saw pain fill his face like a painting animating for the first time.

_Strengthen the calmness, and come back._

Harry blinked his eye, secure and centered.

"Wow."

"That was correctly done, Harry. At last."

Harry stared at him, wide-eyed. Had Snape just complimented him?

"Once you feel confident with this, we can go on to dividing soul and magic."

Harry sighed under his breath. With Snape, there was always another step to go. Wait a minute – 'dividing soul and magic'? The thing he had been pushing to learn since he had first become a vampire?

"You mean I needed to know this first?"

"Of course."

"Well, why didn't you tell me that before?" _Cryptic bastard. Enjoyed not telling me so he could punish me for protesting._

"Why didn't you trust me?"

Harry had no answer to that which wouldn't get him into trouble, so he remained silent. It didn't seem like Snape was expecting an answer anyway.

"Now do it again."

Obediently, Harry restarted the exercise. Soon, very soon even, he would learn how to defeat Voldemort once and for all, and that was the important thing.

XXXXXXX

Harry debated hiding in his dormitory until the girls had left, but he scrounged up the courage to go down. He walked over to Hermione, but stopped when she flinched back.

"I'll see you at the funeral, Harry."

She sounded more unsure than upset, and Harry reminded himself sternly that she had the stress of the near rape to deal with as well as Ron's death.

"Keep well, Hermione."

She stood there staring at him, but at length made her way to the waiting escorts without another word.

"Ginny."

"Harry," she smiled weakly.

"Give my love to your family. I'll be thinking of you all."

"I will, Harry. See you..."

"Soon," interrupted Harry when she trailed off.

"Yes, see you soon."

Neville was staying at Hogwarts, and Harry did a tour of the greenhouses until Madame Sprout sent him in the right direction.

"Hi, Neville."

Neville jumped. Harry walked slowly towards him as Neville settled back into the alcove.

"Can I join you?"

"Sure, Harry."

"Thank you for what you said this morning. I really appreciated it."

"It's okay."

"And thank you for saving the girls. You showed a lot of maturity and bravery in doing what you did."

"You really think so? You don't think I should have fought them like... like Ron did?"

"I really think so. You did the right thing, Neville. Never doubt that."

"Thanks, Harry."

Harry reached over hesitantly, and when Neville made no move to stop him, squeezed his shoulder gently.

"Don't come back to the dorm too late, okay?"

"I won't."

Feeling more at ease, Harry returned to his own bed. Tonight, he thought he'd be able to manage without the dreamless sleep.

XXXXXXX


	9. Coming to Terms

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment.

AU. The story starts at the beginning of Harry's seventh year, but ignores the events of HBP. No parings, Snape mentors Harry. OC's, but they will not be the focus of the story.

XXX

Snape had taken advantage of the disruption in school life to press forward with training as fast as possible. It didn't take much until Harry was ready to take _the _training. He held a rat in one hand and a knife in the other, but couldn't bring himself to start. Now that the day had finally arrived, he wished it hadn't. He was learning to destroy something's _soul_. Had it been possible for wizards to do it, it most certainly would have been an unforgivable. Voldemort deserved it without doubt, but this little creature had done nothing wrong.

The rat started to struggle in his grasp, and with ease of long practice he magically soothed it. It lay calm. Calm, peaceful and trusting. Like it had been when he'd fed it that nutrient potion, or when he checked it over for illness. He brought the knife to its throat, trying to steady his shaking hand. After a long moment, he put down the knife and returned the rat to its cage.

"I can't do it."

"You had no problems killing earlier."

Harry frowned. He hated having to kill the little things, and Snape knew that. "I was starving," he excused faintly. "And besides, that's just killing it, not destroying its very existence."

"It is a rat, Harry. The loss of its soul is of no great import to the universe. I am starting to think you do not wish to learn this. Do you not wish to kill the Dark Lord? Perhaps you are simply waiting until he kills all the other people you do not have the conviction to kill yourself? Waiting for him to kill little Hermione. Waiting for him to kill the Headmaster. Waiting for him to kill _me_?"

"No! I want to do this. I'm just upset about the rat. You don't have to be so hateful about it."

"Yes, Harry, I do. I did not ask for this, you did. I did make you a vampire. You went out with your wide-eyed Gryffindor stupidity and did that all by yourself. And now I am left to try and fix the mess you made and give some point to this insanity, while you _waste my time_ because you are 'upset about the rat'!" Snape was screaming by the time he reached the end.

Harry tried to muster up some indignation, but he couldn't. Snape was right. He was the one who had asked for this, and it was entirely too late to be having cold feet.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to get you anywhere either. Try again."

_Bastard._

Harry collected the rat and the knife. Avoiding looking at the rat's face, he slit cautiously. He didn't want to kill the rat before he had a chance to practice. He shifted his hand around until it was in contact with the blood and shuddered at the slimy feel.

"Now separate your mind out."

Harry relaxed and ran through the exercise. After a minute, he found he was no longer so upset about the rat. Instinctively he strengthened that part of him that was actually quite excited about this new challenge to his abilities. Instantly appalled, he returned to himself. He turned to face Snape.

"I… I was enjoying the prospect of doing it."

"Good."

"No! That's what Voldemort feels when he kills things. It's bad! What's the point of killing him if I'm going to be just as bad as him?"

"Because that way you will be the person left standing."

Harry stared at him in open mouthed astonishment.

"Were you expecting moral platitudes from me? Do you want me to tell you that you will never be as bad as him, and this is all for the best? Perhaps that this is a sacrifice that is required of you for the good of all humanity? Grow up, Harry. If you believe that you aren't doing this for your own benefit, then you are lying to yourself. _That_ is far more dangerous in the long run than a little academic curiosity."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. What was his motivation? To kill Voldemort, sure, but why? _Because he's trying to kill me. Because he killed my parents. Because I disagree with his plans. Because.. because I want to win?_

"Since you have wasted that rat, you will have to fetch another."

Harry looked down to see that the rat had indeed bled to death in his hands. He gently laid the rat in the box that had been prepared for it. His robes and the table had been spelled to repel the blood, but the blood on his hands was starting to clot.

He lifted his hands in Snape's direction. "Can I…"

"Oh, for… all right, go clean up. Actually, take a break. Walk around the school, have a bath, whatever. But be back here in forty five minutes ready to actually do some work. Is that understood?"

"Yes Magister, thank you, Magister."

XXX

Before he had time to blink, it seemed, it was time for Ron's funeral. Immediately after the port key deposited him, he was pulled out of the way and into someone's arms.

"Oh Harry," said Hermione, clinging to his robes. "I'm so sorry."

"That's okay," said Harry, patting her back awkwardly. "We were all angry and upset."

She made no sound, but Harry could feel her body shaking.

"I just can't believe this is real."

"Me neither."

They stood for a long while until Hermione recovered her composure. Once she nodded that she was alright, Harry walked them across the lawn to the Weasleys, still keeping a hand on Hermione's arm. Molly Weasley wrapped Harry in a hug and passed him along Arthur as she turned to Hermione. Arthur petted them both absentmindedly..

"It's time dear," said Mrs Weasely.

Arthur nodded jerkily, and climbed the few steps up to the empty platform. With a visible breath, he withdrew Ron's wand and laid it reverently in the centre of the pyre. His footsteps sounded eerily loud in the sudden silence as everyone turned to watch him. He stepped back to the edge and cast _sonoros_ on himself.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, son and friend, we call to you."

"We call to you," echoed the group. With a crackle of magic, Ron's body rose up through the wood of the pyre and stopped with his wand now lying vertically in the middle of his chest. Harry gasped at the sight of it. They had cleaned and preserved the body of course, but that didn't change the obvious fact that he was dead. Never in life had Ron been that still, that calm.

"On this day, for one final time, hear us."

"Hear us."

"You are loved. You are missed. Your memory will always be with us. You are loved."

"You are loved."

"As we commend your body to the fire and return your magic to the earth, may your spirit find swift wings for the journey onwards. Go free."

"Go free."

After another breathless silence, Arthur stepped back down, and the wood ignited. Ron's wand rose slowly rose above the flames until it was suspended twenty meters above thee ground. Harry and Hermione huddled to the side of the Weasley family as one by one everyone came over to pay their respects. Harry wished he knew how he was supposed to react because then he would have been able to fake it. He watched the sparks carried by stray air currents rise high above their heads. _Little glowing spirits to carry Ron's soul home,_ he thought fancifully. When the heat became oppressive to his more sensitive Vampire nature, he let go of Hermione and turned to make his way to where the other seventh years were standing. But something felt wrong. Something felt very immediately wrong.

Trusting the sudden instinct he yelled "get down!" as he flung himself to the ground.

The funeral party scurried to follow his example, but it was chaos. Harry watched in horror as a little girl was looking around in confusion as the wash of curses reached them. Her mouth opened and she swayed gently for a minute before slowly collapsing. Looking away from her, he crawled around to the other side of the pyre, dragging Hermione with him. They were soon joined by the rest of the party, standing in the wedge that was protected from spells by the pyre itself.

"The portal archway is on the other side of the fire," someone realised in horror.

"We'll have to make a run for it!"

"Don't be stupid, we'll never make it."

"We can't just wait here, they'll be on us in no time!"

"Nothing for it. We'll have to fight!"

"Yeah, we're only outnumbered ten to one! Honestly."

Hermione had opened her mouth a few times, but every time she had been overridden by the anxious adults. Harry shrugged, and used the same trick he had in the common room.

"SILENCE!"

Everyone stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Hermione has a plan. Hermione?"

She gulped when everyone turned to look at her, but straightened her shoulders and spoke up.

"We have enough people trained in casting a rune shield. The seven of us keep it faced towards the Death Eaters while we all make it to the portal."

"It'll take too long to put up – we'll be dead before it's half way finished!"

"That's were I come in," Harry took up smoothly.

"What, because You-Know-Who will run away when he sees you?"

"No, because Voldemort likes to gloat. I can easily keep him talking for long enough for you to finish. As fast as you can, people," before anyone had a chance to stop him, Harry cast shields on himself and stepped out into the field. _If Voldemort doesn't kill me, Snape will, _he thought gloomily. To his relief, the tide of Death Eaters slowed and stopped. Harry locked his knees to prevent himself from falling as Voldemort came to the fore of the group. _I hope you know what you're doing, Hermione._

"Look who we have here. Come to surrender to your true master?"

"Never!"

"You've come to die, then, Harry Potter. Die like that demented Godfather of yours. Die like that little red-headed puppy that used to follow you around."

Harry flushed with fury, but stopped himself from reacting. He had a job to do, and starting a duel wasn't it.

"I don't think so, Tom."

"Don't call me that!"

"Ah, sorry, I forgot your sensitivities about your..."

Voldemort fired off a _crucio_. It was a minute or so before the pain retreated enough for Harry to think again. Not the brightest thing he could have said then. Still, he was alive, he hadn't revealed his true nature, and the Death Eaters hadn't come any closer while he'd writhed on the ground. Success, of sorts. He stood up carefully, running through possibly replies in his head, Voldemort lifted his wand again. Harry dived to one side just at that moment the barrier went up. Voldemort howled in fury and Harry shivered involuntarily at the sound.

"You may be able to run this time, Potter, but soon I will find my way into that castle!"

Harry rose to his feet again, not bothering to reply. The others were now all around him, rushing towards the portal.

"Ron's wand --"

"I've got it."

"Gideon, where's Gideon?"

The chaos abruptly cut off as Harry was pushed forwards through the archway into safety.

XXX


	10. The calm before

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment.

AU. The story starts at the beginning of Harry's seventh year, but ignores the events of HBP. No parings, Snape mentors Harry. OC's, but they will not be the focus of the story.

XXXXXXXX

He answered Dumbledore's questions as best he could and stayed out of Madame Pomphrey's way as everyone was fussed over. Everyone was too busy playing political games arguing about safe refuges to notice him, and it wasn't long before he slipped away and stumbled down to the chamber. He was relieved to find Snape waiting for him. It was an odd thought, really, that he found the man _comforting_.

"Are you unharmed?"

"Yes. Magister. _I'm _fine. That little girl..."

"Would have died whether you'd been there or not," interrupted Snape dismissively.

"Hah. What was it you said the other day? 'Perhaps I am simply waiting until he kills all the other people'?"

"Don't be an idiot, Potter. I wasn't advocating mindlessly running out and attacking him, I was admonishing you to pay attention to your studies, which are still far from complete. Now, I wish to hear exactly what happened. Lupin mentioned you were the one to give the warning. What alerted you?"

Harry forced himself to breath and concentrate on Snape's questions.

"I think I was a little detached because of the funeral. I felt something out of place - I think I caught the thought projection of the attack."

"What did you tell Dumbledore?"

"That I caught sight of something as I turned around. I'm supposed to have 'seeker instincts', so I think he just put it down to that. He didn't look suspicious at any rate."

"Good. Go on."

Snape listened with concentration while Harry detailed the 'battle'.

"If he'd cast the killing curse, you would have had a hard time explaining to Dumbledore why you weren't dead, you realise."

"My Mother's love? Besides, it would have been more inconvenient to explain the same fact to Voldemort."

Snape sniffed.

"Well, suppose you did the best you could."

"The best I could? After that, I just stood there and didn't do anything. This is never going to work!"

"No, we simply need to work on getting it to work," corrected Snape.

"What's going to be different next time around? Hell, the only reason I'm still alive is because Voldemort doesn't realise I'm a real threat to him. The second he thought I might actually try an attack him..."

Harry trailed off, and started to pace along the small gap between the furniture.

"We always knew we still had details to work out, such as getting you close enough to touch his blood..."

"And how do we do that exactly? Ask everyone not to use any more rune shields because I don't think they look pretty?"

"Or we could find some way to make sure you're on the other side of one," said Snape coldly. Harry stopped pacing and looked away from Snape. Snape's accommodation today didn't extend to interruptions, it seemed.

"The second problem is going to be separating his soul fast enough that he won't realise what you are doing. That means you are going to have to practice at it until you can do it at high speed."

"More rats?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"Yes, Potter. More rats."

Well, it was something to do to take his mind off things, at any rate. Harry cast the protective spells and moved a rat to the bench. It wasn't quite enough to calm all his fears though. Not looking up from the table, he asked, "What happens if I get there, and everything works perfectly and I just freeze up? I mean I can barely bring myself to do this to the rat in perfect conditions..."

"And you're scared."

"No! Well, yes."

"You're stronger than you realise. I think you'll find that when you get there, you will have no problems going through with it."

XXXXXXXX

The common room was mostly deserted, as it was increasingly commonly. The trickle of students who left after the attack on Hogsmeade turned into a flood after the funeral massacres. It was 'just the work of a few extremists whom the Ministry would soon bring under control'. But still, students left. Nothing to do with the You-Know-Who palaver, naturally, the whole thing would shortly be resolved. Just families who had been planning to move countries anyway, you know. Families who had decided to take an extended holiday to visit a far-flung relative in need. Families who called their children home just before their houses disappeared. War might not have been declared, but it was being waged.

Hermione was curled up by the fire, not reading the book in her hands. She'd been doing that a lot since Ron died.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?" she said, not looking up.

"I need your help."

That caught her attention. She sat up and put the book in her bag.

"You do?" Harry cringed a bit at her eagerness. She still didn't seem entirely convinced he had forgiven her for her actions this year, and was still being excessively nice to him.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you why I need it…"

"That's okay, Harry, really."

"… but if I tell you what I need," he ploughed on, "would that be enough for you to find a solution?"

"Well," she said, fetching out a notebook and quill, "tell me what you have."

"I need something that will take me through wards."

"Wards cast by us or by them?"

"Both."

"Hmm. You must realise, Harry, wards are designed to _prevent_ you from doing that. If there was a simple way to bring down a ward, everyone would do it."

"Yes, I know. But I don't need to bring the ward down, or hex through it. I need to … bypass it. And if anyone could figure a way to get around the limitations of the wards, it would be you."

"Harry," she said disapprovingly, but he could see she pleased by the praise.

"Well, give me the details. Are we talking about fixed wards as well as free wards?"

"Only things that could be cast in a battle, I would think."

"Free and hooked wards, then. When you say you don't need to attack through them, do you mean that you won't use magic until you are on the other side of the ward, or that you won't use magic at all?"

"That would make a difference?"

"Of course it would. Didn't you read that section on wards and intent?"

"Umm…"

Harry could see she was about to comment on his work habits, so he hurriedly answered he original question.

"I'd need to be able to do internal magic. I'd really like to be able to use defensive magic. Aggressive magic I could do without."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do with that. Will you know when you need to do this?"

"Well, I'll know in advance that I will need to, but not the exact time or date, no."

"So you could carry a charmed object, but you couldn't use a time-triggered spell."

"Yes."

"You want to get through or around it physically. A ward is more likely to be a dome than a wall, but I wonder how many are full spheres. None of them would be absolute barriers, because those suffocate any living thing within them. The ones that stop sound or light wouldn't be used in battle. '_Dispelling the Unwanted'_ had something about variable levels of access, I wonder… Come on, we need to get to the library."

Harry smiled as she dragged him off. She might be a little more subdued, but she was still Hermione.

Later that week he paused, leaning against a stack. He just meant to close his eyes for a second, but he jerked awake as he started to slip forward.

"What are you looking for?"

"Neville! Ah, just a research book. For Hermione. You know how she gets."

"Yes, I do. I also know that anyone could help her fetch books and read indices, but only you can do some of the other stuff you're doing."

Harry froze. Neville couldn't know, could he? "I'm sorry, Neville, I don't know what you mean," he tried.

"I'm not an idiot, Harry, please don't treat me like one."

"Sorry." On reflection, the Voldemort stuff was pretty obvious. No doubt all the people close to him had realised something. The vampire stuff was a layer deeper - one secret hidden by another.

"That's okay. But _this_ is not okay. You are going to tell me what book you were looking for, and then you are going to bed. I will then assist Hermione, and she will come and find you once she has a solution to whatever it is you're working on."

Harry found himself smiling.

XXXXXXXX

A few weeks later, Harry stood blankly in the middle of his dormitory. He didn't need to sleep, he didn't have any work to do, and he was under strict instructions not to practice soul-draining - he hadn't reached increased his speed in days and Snape had grown irritated by his obsession. He didn't have anything to do. He hadn't had a free moment since Ron's death, and he quite literally didn't know what to do with himself.

"Could you check your dorm, Neville?"

"Hermione!" called back Harry. "Wait there, I'm coming down."

Harry took the stairs three at a time and skidded to a halt in front of Neville and Hermione.

"Harry, I'm so glad we found you." She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, and her face had temporarily regained its normal animation. "We've found it."

"You have? You have! That's great. What is it? Have you tried it yet? What do I have to do? Will I need to practice it? Do we need any special ingredients?"

"Yes, it'll need practice, no, it doesn't need anything besides your wand. We'd best try it out in the room of requirement, so..."

"Let's go then!"

Caught up in Harry's excitement, they raced each other there. For a few minutes they were children once again.

XXXXXXXX


	11. The Storm

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment.

AU. The story starts at the beginning of Harry's seventh year, but ignores the events of HBP. No parings, Snape mentors Harry. OC's, but they will not be the focus of the story.

Warning: Character death

XXXXXXXX

Over half their classes that day had been unsupervised. The teachers were doing their best to appear calm and unconcerned, but on the whole they were failing. Even Snape was looking agitated.

"It's soon, isn't it?"

Snape tilted his head to one side, and regarded him for a while before nodding.

"Probably."

"Tomorrow?"

Snape half-shrugged.

"I'm not ready," Harry said in pained dismay.

"We'd better hope you are."

That was hardly the reassurance he had been looking for. Snape's uncharacteristic silence was also worrying. Was he thinking it was too late to bother with him anymore? That Harry wasn't good enough? But it wasn't like Snape was volunteering to go out there and kill him. Hell, it wasn't like any of the Elders had even bothered to give them any advice. Resentment bubbled up in Harry.

"If the vampire world is so powerful, why aren't they doing more to help us?"

"Vampires prefer to stay out of the affairs of the Wizarding world. We operate only to ensure the continued existence of ourselves. We mind our own business, and allow others to mind theirs. Sometimes, though, that continued existence is threatened by external forces and it becomes a good idea to interfere. The council is unconvinced as to whether Voldemort is such a threat – some of them take the prophecies regarding you very seriously. Some of the elder vampires have chosen to make small gestures, like me."

"What do you mean, like you?"

"The vampire I was reborn to decided that both sides needed a channel of communication; a means by which decisions to the benefit of both sides could be made. He crafted me to fulfil that goal."

"But, Voldemort doesn't know you work for Dumbledore!"

Snape looked disgusted.

"Honestly Harry, I would expect some more intelligence from you than that. Name for me, if you would, the people who know I'm a 'spy'."

"Me, Hermione, Dumbledore, Fudge, Pomphrey, Lupin, Kingsley, ... um, do the people who know you spied last time count?" asked Harry, remembering Dumbledore's pensieve. That was… an awful lot of people.

"And yet you imagine the Dark Lord himself doesn't know? No, both sides gain more benefit from leaving me in place than by killing me. That is all."

"That's terrible!"

Harry had thought they had treated him poorly, but sending Snape out and just playing the odds that Voldemort would not decide to kill him this time... What kind of man was Dumbledore that he was prepared to put someone through that? And would Dumbledore kill Snape if he thought Snape was fully on Voldemort's side? On reflection, Harry thought he probably would. Dumbledore had shown himself to be ruthless enough before.

"Why are you willing to run that risk?"

"The risk isn't as great as they would think. I am a vampire, after all. They're unlikely to try something that would result in my final death. I would just be removed from the equation. I'd then have to go somewhere else, take a new name and become a new person. It is the way of vampires."

Encouraged by Snape's willingness to talk about himself, Harry asked the question he'd been wondering about most of the year. "So, how did you become a vampire?"

"Bad luck and stupidity."

Harry was just starting to think that was all he was going to get out of the man when Snape continued.

"I left Hogwarts with high marks but no expectations. My family couldn't afford to support me in any more extensive training, and I couldn't find a job. I didn't have anything to bribe the ministry with, Dumbledore's side wouldn't employ me because of my friends, and my friends wouldn't help me until I committed myself to Voldemort. I played at travelling to delay the inevitable and I ended up, unwisely, confiding this all to some stranger in a Hungerian bar. I woke up, reborn, with my 'solution' - commit to Voldemort to spy on Dumbledore, and then immediately confess to Dumbledore, and offer to spy on Voldemort."

"You mean, this vampire just killed you after knowing you for one night?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, it seemed he'd been following me around for a while, he just hadn't been sure of my neutrality."

"But he didn't even talk to you about it before he killed you?"

"No. Remember that the next time you lament your fate to me. You, unlike me, chose to do this."

Harry was stung.

"You think I had real choices? Just _dying_ was always an option for you, too."

Snape didn't react for a long moment, and Harry was afraid he'd destroyed this fragile truce between them.

"Well, soon enough we'll see whether this was all worthwhile. For both of us."

The fear crashed back down on Harry.

_Soon enough. Too soon. _

XXXXXXX

He joined his remaining housemates for breakfast. Everyone was on edge but pretending nothing was wrong. He was poking desultorily at his eggs when light flooded the great hall. Screams started, and groans of pain from those who had been facing the windows. He shielded his eyes as best he could, and moved to see outside. Through the haze, he could just make out a glowing dome surrounding the school. As he watched, the light faded, leaving an afterimage every time he blinked.

He could just hear McGonagall over the noise: "The wards! Albus, the wards!"

_So that's what they look like,_ he thought stupidly. _Oh. That means they've failed._

"Everyone! QUIET!"

Quicker than he would have imagined possible, everyone was silent. Silent, and scared.

"Students, please return to your common rooms immediately. Prefects, please assist."

Harry remained looking out of the window.

"Harry?" asked Hermione from behind him. He didn't face her.

"Go, Hermione, Neville. The younger years need you."

"Harry…" she paused awkwardly. "Good luck."

"Thank you."

Harry turned and joined the teachers as they reached him. They didn't protest – nowhere would be safe for him now in any case. He avoided looking at Snape. They all jumped at the sound of someone apparating in.

"An order member," reassured Dumbledore. "The wards will stop death eaters apparating for at least another couple of hours."

Harry strode out to the exact middle of the Quidditch pitch. If it was all going to end, one way or another, this is where he would like it to be. Harry counted the apparation sounds off in his head. Eight, seventeen, twenty one, twenty two. Then a long period of silence. Twenty two people? That was the entire order, not including Hogwarts staff? What were they thinking?

"We can't protect the entire perimeter, there aren't enough of us," warned Shacklebolt.

"Voldemort won't try to get around us. He'll attack head on," said Dumbledore.

"Are you sure?"

"With me here" Harry interrupted, "it's guaranteed."

"We'll set up here, then. Nice piece of flat ground you've chosen for us, Mr Potter."

Everyone set to work, triggering and casting wards. Harry ignored them, watching in growing detachment as the black mass flowed towards them.

They stopped just short of spell range. For a moment, the two groups stood facing each other in absolute stillness. If he ignored the drawn wands, Harry could imagine they had just chosen teams for a quick quidditch game. One where the team in black had significantly more players. Then the moment broke, and they rushed towards each other firing curses.

Above all the noise, Voldemort's enhanced voice could be heard "Now it ends, Dumbledore!"

"Yes it does," replied Albus quietly.

The once pristine grass was soon slick with blood and failed curses. Harry dodged this way and that, trying to get a clear sight of Voldemort and flinging curses were he could.

Harry reached down to free his legs when he realised what he was caught up in - neon pink human hair. He was standing on the remains of Tonks body. Harry retched involuntarily, kicking out to free himself. He slid a few meters and turned to finish throwing up. He wiped his mouth unsteadily.

He felt himself picked up from behind, and turned around.

"Harry!" hissed Snape. "Get a hold of yourself! Do you hear me?"

"Y..yes, Magister."

"There!" Severus placed him down, facing him so that he could see Voldemort, temporarily unobstructed by the battle. "Do it now, I'll follow you."

Harry slipped his knife out of his belt and cast "a_dtraho penetro_".

It wasn't an offensive spell, and as they had predicted it was stealthy enough to slip through the barriers of both sides. He felt himself being pulled rapidly to Voldemort's side. This was it. _The one they'd all been waiting for._

He lunged forward with the knife. It didn't matter were he hit, only that he drew blood.

"Do you think these muggle weapons can kill me, boy? You are more of a fool than I thought."

He felt utterly detached from his body as he clung to Voldemort's now stained robes.

_For my parents. For Cedric. For Sirius. For Ron. For Tonks ._

He concentrated, and began to pull the soul from it. Voldemort stopped laughing and began to pull himself away from Harry's grip, twisting his wand so that he could aim at Harry. But it was too late. Voldemort cast the killing curse as his own life slipped away. Harry was pushed under him as Voldemort collapsed.

_He'd done it._

Severus knelt next to Harry as he arrived. He leant over as if he was trying to free Harry from beneath Voldemort.

"I've done it."

"Yes. Well done."

Harry basked in that unaccustomed praise, and watched in confusion as Snape freed his knife.

"Unfortunately, you are also now dead. Too many people saw that curse. I am going to drain your body of all blood so that it reacts appropriately corpse-like for the next few days. As soon as it is safe to do so, I will come and get you. Do not be concerned. You _will_ wake up."

Harry gasped slightly at the cut, then dizziness overwhelmed him and he knew no more.

THE END.


	12. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment.

AU. The story starts at the beginning of Harry's seventh year, but ignores the events of HBP. No parings, Snape mentors Harry. OC's, but they will not be the focus of the story.

Warning: Character death

XXXXXXXX

Harry woke, choking on the blood in his mouth.

"Drink, you silly child!"

Harry swallowed obediently. He tried to grab the wrist in front of him, but it was drawn out of his reach. He followed it without thought as it led him across the room to a neck. He latched on to the existing cut, pulling the attached body around to give him better access.

"Harry! Stop now."

Harry ignored the meaningless interruption. The Other came towards him but he scuttled over to another corner, drinking as fast as he could. Soon, he could pull no more out, no matter how hard he sucked. He let the vessel fall to the floor with a disgruntled whimper. The Other approached again, and this time Harry let him. Harry was swiftly settled back into bed and he let himself be lulled back to sleep.

When he woke again, the room was empty. For a brief shinning moment he hoped it had all been a dream, but the now sour taste in his mouth denied that. He rushed into the bathroom, and rinsed his mouth over and over again until he heard Snape calling to him from the bedroom.

"Magister. Please tell me I didn't kill him. Her?"

"Him. He was no great loss. I didn't truly expect you not to under the circumstances."

"But, but, I _killed_ him."

"Yes."

"I thought I'd be able to control it. I thought..."

"We can, most of the time. And even when we don't, we all believe that it wouldn't happen again. "

"I... I... maybe you should just kill me now, before that happens. I mean, I'm not likely to survive training anyway, right? So..."

"Oh for heavens sake. Since you were so unfairly cheated out of a glorious death in battle, you have to make up for it now in noble sacrifice? People die, Harry. You are a vampire and they are _food_. If you can't accept that then maybe it is better that you stop wasting my time in training you. The mental form required is within your capabilities, although if you wish to make a more painful gesture, I swear to ward your coffin after you bleed yourself out. Just do it outside so that you don't stain the carpets."

Snape stalked out.

Harry stared after him. He agitation bled out, leaving him strangely detached. At last, he got back into bed, not knowing what else to do. His mind kept returning to the two deaths he had just caused, and Snape's not entirely sarcastic answer. He knew he _should_ want to die, but he didn't. He wanted to live. And as selfish as that made him, he was going to continue training with Snape.

Harry stood up as Snape entered the guest room, shrugging the transfigured robes into a more comfortable position.

"Decided to snuff yourself, then?"

"No, Magister."

"Good."

Snape tossed him a newspaper, and Harry stared blankly down at it.

"Your funeral will be held later today, and I have been instructed to attend. After it ends, I will clear the remainder of my belongings from Hogwarts, so I will probably be gone all day."

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

"No, Mister Harry Potter, you may not come. You will have to content yourself with the Prophet's descriptions of your mourning fans."

With that, Snape was gone again. Harry bit his lip. He hated the grief he was putting everyone through, Hermione, Neville, Mrs Weasely, Remus Lupin ... He just wanted to see them and make sure they were all alright. He wondered idly if the Dursleys had been informed of the funeral. He somehow doubted they would be attending.

He skimmed through the imaginative descriptions of Voldemort's defeat and puzzled over the funeral arrangements. This wasn't his funeral at all. It was a sort of surrogate funeral for everyone who had been lost in the war. Even after his 'death' they'd found a way to use him. It made it both better and worse. Harry drifted over to the window and stared at the immaculate lawns. Voldemort was dead, and as far as the wizarding world knew, so was he. The great hero, the mourned saviour of the world ... and Severus Snape's very much alive bloodling.

_"Now my training truly begins."_

_XXXXXXX_


End file.
